I started practicing hot yoga over five years ago. At the time, I was recovering from a brain injury, and the practice helped me heal considerably, both mentally and physically. Because of the injury, I was socially isolated and in great need of kindness and encouragement. In the studio staff and regulars, I found both in abundance. The studio became one of the few places where I felt comfortable among people. I could exhale, relax, and just be me.
In the hot room on my mat, I wasn't brain injured. I wasn't socially awkward nor did I talk funny. Among the others dripping sweat and bending their bodies, I was a competent yogini, because, as the teachers said many times and I came to believe, "Whatever you can do today is perfect for you today."
Over time, my practice progressed from looking at the clock every five minutes, wondering how much longer I had, and wobbling while holding my foot for over a year to maybe looking at the clock once or twice and kicking out in standing head to knee pose. (I'm still working on getting my head to my knee. There's a reason why they say yoga is a life long practice!) I usually showed up for yoga class four times a week, sometimes more, but never less than three.
Hot yoga became one of the pillars upon which I built a new identity and life. But that doesn't even begin to adequately describe just how important yoga was to me. Yoga became part of my very essence. My breath. My being. If that makes any sense. I told people that I was addicted. Maybe I was. Yoga became so important, in my otherwise barren life, that, early on, I would experience anxiety and stress if I couldn't get to class as often as I wanted. I know. I know. Talk about attachment. This is exactly the opposite of what yoga is supposed to be about.
In the last few years, while hot yoga was still a very important part of my life, I didn't go into withdrawal if I couldn't get to class. While, I continued practicing frequently, I lost my passion for the practice and found that doing the same 26 postures every time, over and over, just didn't excite or challenge me anymore.
About a year ago, one of the teachers, Rebecca Jordan-Turner, left the Bikram studio and began teaching her own sequence, The Revolution Series, of hot yoga drawing from other teachers and genres. Upon taking her class for the first time, I felt new life, a rush, a zing, breathed into my practice. Yoga became exhilarating again. I hadn't realized just how bored I was until I tried something different. However, even though I loved the new practice, my yoga life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine.
Because Bikram yoga had been crucial to helping me come back to normal after my brain injury, I found that I was hesitant to let go of it. I was sad that the same practice that had healed me and in which I had found so much peace was now stale and lacking to me. It was unsettling for it not to be good enough anymore. Others expressed similar sentiments after experiencing the new series and moving on. Like any other facet of life, I had to go through an uncomfortable transition period to grow my practice to the next level, but it was well worth it. I love yoga again, and I love my yoga family at Revolution Hot Yoga (RHY).
I have nothing but the utmost respect for Bikram yoga and my original studio and will be forever grateful to them. Bikram yoga was a great starting point and welcomed me into the wonderful world of yoga. But it's just that - a starting point. My practice is growing up and has, at least, hit puberty. I'm excited see where I go on my yoga journey with RHY.
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| The yoga family before the Halloween class. (Many are missing. You know who you are!) |
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| This is Debbie Hampton's yoga story. |
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